The Day After the Night Before
by Merlyn
Summary: It's the day after Holmes's birthday and he's a little hungover.
1. The Drunken Detective

This has been on my mind for some time – Sherlock Holmes with a hangover ;-)

The Night After the Day Before

As I descended the stairs on the crisp morning at the somewhat late hour of half past ten on the morning of the 7th January 1889 I wasn't expecting my close friend, Sherlock Holmes to be up an about at such an hour. The night before we had been celebrating his 35th birthday, and as a result of all the drinks that members of the official police and gracious former clients had insisted on buying him he had been considerably worse for wear upon our return to Baker Street in the early hours.

So you could perhaps understand my surprise when upon entering the sitting room to find Sherlock Holmes (albeit unshaven and looking a little dishevelled) sitting at the breakfast table, his head upon his arms and breakfast untouched. I closed the door with a snap and saw him wince visibly.

"Morning, Holmes. How are you feeling?"

"I'll tell you when the room stops spinning." Was his somewhat muffled reply.

I laughed and took my place at the table. "You should eat something."

"I can neither stomach food or the idea of food at present."

"Yes I heard you this morning." I said as I poured out two cups of strong coffee.

"My apologies if I woke you." He murmured. "It is rather difficult to vomit quietly." He stood crossed the room to the sofa and flopped at little unceremoniously down upon it, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"You're allowed to get merry on your birthday."

"Merry!"

"In fairness," I replied glancing over to him as I tucked into the most excellent sausages that our good landlady had provided. "I had no idea you were that drunk. Not until you fell off that stool." Holmes groaned at the memory.

I sighed, stood and headed over to the locked cupboard where I kept my medical bag. There, I unlocked the cupboard removed my bag and hunted around until I found what I was looking for. I removed the packet of delicate white powder and poured the mixture into a glass of water, this I took over to Holmes.

"Here." I said crouching down next to him holding out the glass.

Sitting up slightly he took it from me, "what is it?"

"It's something to help settle your stomach."

He looked a little relieved, "thank you." He drank the mixture down in one and handed me back the empty glass.

I smiled at him and stood up. "Oh, by the way you fly's open." He grunted in reply before reaching down to fasten his trousers. "I know you don't feel like it, but you really should eat something." I crossed to the table and held up a plate. "Toast?"

"If I don't you'll lecture me all day." He replied a little grudgingly, in return I smiled at him passed him the plate and then returned to my own breakfast.

During the long silence that followed the only noises were the sounds of Holmes munching slowly at the toast and the clink of my knife and fork as I tucked into my delicious breakfast.

"I didn't make a fool of myself, did I?" Holmes broke the silence in a quiet voice.

"No. Not particularly." I sipped my coffee, "apart from telling Lestarde very loudly that you loved him."

"Oh Lord."

"Since no one slapped cuffs on you I think that everyone was more amused than anything, especially after you tried to kiss me as we were helping you into the cab." I couldn't resist a glance in his direction. Holmes's ears had turned a rather interesting shade of pink.

"Apart from that, you were the model drunk."

"I'm going back to bed." He muttered before hurrying in the direction of his room. I allowed myself a smile as I heard the door close with a click.

Later that afternoon I put my head around Holmes's door to find him still sleeping soundly and so leaving him be I returned to the sitting room and absorbed myself in one of my favourite sea novels. Some time later there was a knock on the door.

"Come in." I called.

The door opened and in stepped Inspector Lestarde. "Afternoon, doctor." He pointed his hat in the direction of Holmes's door, "still asleep is he?"

"Ah yes. He did surface this morning, but returned to bed soon after. Sit down, Lestrade."

"Thank you." He settled himself next to me on the sofa. "I don't blame him, if I'd have been as ratted as him I wouldn't have even bothered getting out of bed in the first place!"

I laughed. "It's a good job he's a quiet drunk, I don't think I could have coped with him singing or anything."

"Quiet drunk, ha. Apart from shouting to the world that he loved me!" Lestrade blushed slightly, "I've heard no end of it down at the Yard I can tell you."

"Drink?"

"Oh...er, yes please." I poured him a drink from the decanter and held it out to him. "Thanks." He took a sip. "Gregson's been having some fun at my expense. He said no wonder Mr Holmes is always busying himself with my investigations."

"You know he didn't mean it, Lestrade."

"Oh I know it, everyone knows it. To tell the truth though, doctor, I have often wondered about him. Haven't you?"

"I'm sorry, wondered about him in what way?"

"You know... if he's..."

"Oh." I laughed. "To be honest Lestrade I haven't given much thought to Holmes's...intimate nature. I really don't think he has one."

"And you've never...?"

"Well, at least not consciously. The idea of him being...romantic with anyone is... well, it's... it's..." I couldn't quite find the words but Lestrade understood.

He drained his glass and stood. "Thanks for the drink, let him know I called round."

"Oh..er, why did you?"

"Oh I was banking on him being up, I wanted to tease him about last night. Does he remember everything?"

"I don't think so, and I've not told him yet. Call again this evening."

Lestrade smiled and picked up his hat, "I shall. Afternoon."

"Afternoon, Inspector."

I chucked to myself and turned to find Holmes standing in the doorway of his bedroom with a horrified expression on his face.

"What did you mean 'you've not told me yet'?"


	2. The Missing Four Hours

**Warning: **Extreme silliness.

Sherlock Holmes and the Missing Four Hours

Later that evening, Sherlock Holmes resurfaced for a second time looking much better than he had previously. He was still unshaven but his eyes had resumed the familiar sparkle and he appeared in good spirits. He refused my offer of a brandy and instead settled himself in his chair with a cup of tea and propped his feet on the corner of the side table. He wore a most peculiar smile, and I watched him with a wary eye.

Half an hour later, Inspector Lestrade joined us. He smiled at Holmes and asked him cordially just how he was feeling.

"Much better, thank you Lestrade." He responded, tipping his tea cup in the Inspectors direction.

"Glad to hear it." Lestrade replied settling himself upon the couch and accepting a glass of brandy from me. Holmes regarded the pair of us before I sat down in my own chair.

"Gentlemen," he leaned forward in his chair. "I have given much thought however to what exactly took place last night. There are approximately four hours of the night that I cannot account for."

I grinned at him. "Oh yes?"

"And as you are unwilling to tell me about my conduct last night, no doubt wishing to use the information for other purposes, I decided to investigate." He rose from his seat and retrieved his pipe from the rack upon the mantle piece.

I wasn't at all surprised at this. "Really?"

Turning to us, his pipe in hand he continued. "My first clues came from the inspection of the clothing I was wearing last night."

"Oh? And what did your clothing tell you, Mr Holmes?" Lestrade leaned forward in his chair, his eye catching mine and I found myself having to suppress my laughter.

"A good deal, Lestrade. From the state of my left shirt sleeve," he indicated his own sleeve, "I deduced that at some point I was taken ill in the cab and thus we were forced to walk from Seven Dials until we found alternative transport."

"Quite right. The cab driver wasn't too impressed. How did you know it was near Seven Dials? Surely you were too inebriated to know where we were?" I still wasn't surprised.

"You can tell by the mud upon the left side of my right shoe, this type of mud is _only_ found in Seven Dials just as you come from Queen Street. I have not walked there for several days and so it is a simple connection."

"Impressive. Anything else?"

"Yes. Several things. As there is rather... a distinct stain upon my underclothes just near the fly, I believe that you escorted me down Little Earl Street in the direction of Cambridge Circus where there is a urinal. You did this because I was no doubt about to make a disgrace of myself on one of the nearby buildings and Lestrade didn't wish to arrest me for indecent behaviour."

"Wait a minute," Lestrade interrupted, "how did you know you didn't... have an accident?"

"Because my dear Inspector, there would be more signs upon my clothing if that was true."

At this I had to admit that I was beginning to be surprised by Holmes's knowledge. "Why Cambridge Circus?"

"Because it is the nearest urinal to Seven Dials, and I hardly imagine that you would wish to escort me as far as the top of Shaftesbury Avenue."

"What happened then?"

"I believe Watson you were forced to help me unfasten my trousers, and I made a particularly lewd comment that no doubt made you blush and if anyone _other_ than Lestrade had heard me I believe I would be sitting in a goal cell. That does however beg the question as to what I said. What did I say, Watson?" He smiled at me in his infuriating way.

I found myself blushing under his gaze and could only mutter, "something that should never be repeated in front of a police officer."

"Ah!" He gave a triumphant cry. "So I _did _say something lewd."

"What? That was a bluff?" I cursed myself, how many times had I seen him perform this exact same trick over the years?

"No not a bluff, I merely _thought _that I had said something to you."

"What made you think so?"

"Your very manner this morning, you were determined to extract your revenge by embarrassing me so I must have said or done something to embarrass you. As you... kindly informed me that I fell off my stool last night and tried to kiss you I doubt that these were the events to embarrass you, otherwise you wouldn't have told me."

"All right, what next?"

"We walked, or rather you carried me, up Charing Cross Road where you had the good fortune to encounter a cab. There, Lestrade you bundled me into the cab and left the poor Doctor to deal with me on his own. There we returned to Baker Street where I managed to rouse the entire household with rather out of tune renditions of 'HMS Pinafore'."

"How do you know I didn't go with you?" Lestrade interrupted again.

"And how did you know it was Pinafore?" I queried.

"Because Mrs Hudson informed me that she had to help Watson up the stairs with me, as it was in the early hours of this morning that you finally extracted me from the bar., the fact that Mrs Hudson was up at such an hour tells me that I was loud enough to wake our poor landlady. As for Pinafore, it was what that young constable was playing on the piano as we left."

"Well that takes explains everything _after _we left the bar." I knew he couldn't possibly remember what had taken place during the evening.

"Ah yes, the bar. I believe I made a complete fool of myself with three constables and the Chief Inspector's wife."

Suddenly very embarrassed Lestrade began to study the pattens on the rug."Ah you know about the Chief Inspector's wife."

"Yes. I believe I told her intricate details of her private life, concentrating mostly on her lack of intimacy recently with her husband which was no doubt a result of his impotency. Then I believe I began to discuss with her the reasons for her husbands impotency, referring very loudly to my own problems with cocaine and the effect that it has on that particular part of my body. Then began to advise her on the course of action she should take. Watson that particular shade of red does not suit you."

"How did you remember that?" I gasped in astonishment, trying to ignore the fact that I had turned a deep colour of crimson.

"I didn't."

"Then how did you know?"

"This note," he produced a piece of paper from his dressing gown pocket and held it out to me, "thanking me for my advice concerning her husbands 'condition' and saying that she will seek out that remedy I advised as soon as possible."

I could hardly dare to ask how he knew about the other events of the night, "and the three constables?"

"I told them that their over-large moustaches were clearly trying to make up for inadequacies in other areas. Why else would this cartoon have appeared in this mornings paper?" He held up the evening paper where there was a most amusing illustration of a police constable with a moustache the length of the Strand. Holmes smiled at us both in a gentle manner. "I am dreadfully sorry for spoiling your fun, gentlemen but as you know I deplore secrets of any sort, unless they are of my own keeping."

Lestrade sighed, "I suppose you also know that the Chief Inspector isn't too pleased with me for inviting him to the celebrations. I hope you plan to write him an apologetic letter or come in person."

"I shall do nothing of the sort." Holmes snorted, throwing himself down in his chair.

"Holmes!" I warned.

"In a few days he will be wanting to thank me for the renewed intimacy with his wife."

With a groan, Lestrade stood, drained his glass and handed it back to me. "Well, I best be off. Night gentlemen." With that he hastily left our sitting room.

We sat in silence for some time before Holmes finally turned to me and said: "All that leaves now, Watson, is what took place in my bedroom after we returned. Mrs Hudson is less than pleased with me all ready for vomiting all over her best bath towels, when she sees the state of my bedsheets..."


End file.
